


Not In The Way She Wants

by Carice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carice/pseuds/Carice
Summary: Just a bit of fluff in response to Steven Moffatt's remarks this week via Video, regarding how the 'I Love You' call changed (or didn't) Molly and Sherlock's relationship. If you didnt see the video, Steven basically said that yes, Sherlock loves Molly, he will look after her, protect her, but he doesn’t love her ‘in the way that she wants to be loved’ Couldn't resist writing this in response. Hope you like it.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 45
Kudos: 141





	Not In The Way She Wants

**Author's Note:**

> A little something for the lovely Sherlollians. I do hope you like it.

Mycroft had left the flat, as had his minions, by 2am, and Molly now knew much more about that phone call from Sherlock, and she also knew (thankfully) that her flat was not, in fact, rigged with explosives. 

Just cameras. Which was bloody well bad enough. She'd watched the guys take every little camera, every hidden cable, so at least she had her privacy back. 

Just an hour ago, she'd thought the call had been bad enough, until Mycroft filled her in about the possible explosives and the definite cameras. 

She also had a lot to think about now, after what Mycroft had said. 

She wished so hard for Mary just then. She needed someone to bounce this off, someone who understood Sherlock. But Mary was gone, and she knew she'd just have to get her head around this herself. 

She'd never had a visit from Mycroft Holmes before, let alone a visit which was so extraordinary that she could hardly take it in. 

“Doubtless, my brother will try to rationalise his feelings for you, Miss Hooper.” Mycroft had said. “You must not let him do this. Having seen the deductions made by my sister about the relationship between you and Sherlock, and having seen and heard first hand his words and actions tonight, it is patently clear that my brother is in love with you. The sincerity of his realisation as he repeated the words – the violence of his reactions afterward – an idiot could see that these feelings have nothing to do with platonic feelings and everything to do with passionate ones. ”. 

Molly had just stared at him. Her gut reaction was disbelief, but she'd heard that second 'I love you', and now she'd heard about Sherlock's emotional explosion afterwards. 

Molly knew enough about Mycroft Holmes to take what he said very seriously. If he said it, it was because he had deduced it and it was right. He just wouldn't be wrong. Given what Mycroft had said about the 'era defining' genius of their sister, she wasn't going to have been wrong either; there was a very good reason she'd taken Sherlock apart by setting up that particular challenge...

Molly sat opposite Mycroft, he on the armchair, uncharacteristically unbuttoned both in terms of his shirt, open at the neck, and his posture – he was sitting back, his hands splayed on the arms of the chair, and he looked done in. Molly sat on the edge of the sofa, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of her jumper. 

“If you say that Mr Holmes, I believe you. But after tonight, if he wants to think his way out of it, he will. How can I stop him? I'm not going to beg”. With the last words, she looked up, defiant, meeting Mycroft's eye. 

Mycroft sat forward, his expression endlessly sad but warm. “The solution is simple. You simply do not listen to him. You do not allow him to be the arbiter of your actions. You are a modest woman, Miss Hooper, unused to putting yourself forward, but your appeal to Sherlock will be stronger than his resistance, in the end. Simply let him know how you feel. He will catch up, eventually. He always was the slow one”. With a sad smile, and some further polite and encouraging words, Mycroft had departed, leaving her a card displaying his personal mobile number. 

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Sleep was impossible, so despite it being the small hours of the morning, Molly decided on a shower. She was still in yesterday's clothes, and she needed to wash away the feeling of having been watched by those bloody cameras. She'd freshen up, and then see what the day brought – a visit from Sherlock at some point, she thought, and her stomach clenched at the thought of it. She both desperately wanted to see him, and felt reluctant to hear the words he no doubt planned to say to her. 

And her heart ached for him. From what Mycroft had described, it had been a hell of a day and night for Sherlock, and the fact that he had repressed his memories of his sister, of his dead best friend – well, it explained a lot about why he saw himself as a sociopath. 

Molly was out of the shower and in her pyjamas, drinking a hot chocolate, when Sherlock arrived. She'd left the door unlatched, so he could come in. 

He looked wrecked, as broken as she could have imagined. He didn't take his coat off, just came towards her. She rose from the sofa, and they met in the middle of the room, moving as one into an enveloping hug, Sherlock leaning down, Molly on tip toe to put her arms as far around his neck as she could. 

He straightened up, his hands on her upper arms. “Molly, I'm sorry -” he began. 

Molly shook her head. “No apologies. Mycroft, he – um – explained”. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes a little. “Well, apologies for that, at any rate, Molly. My brother is not usually the most tactful of people. But you – really, understand?” Seeing her nod, he gripped her arms more tightly, biting his lip, shaking his head. “Molly Hooper. I don't deserve you”. 

Molly's heart swelled with love for him. He was exhausted, shattered, and he needed to rest. 

“Are you staying at John's?”

Sherlock nodded. “He's in the car downstairs. I wanted to see you before we...” he tailed off. 

Molly told him he'd better go and let John get back to Rosie. Sherlock turned to leave, then turned back again. She could see in his face, he was about to do what he saw as 'the decent thing'. 

“John asked what I was going to say to you. I told him – I love her, John. Just – not in the way she wants”. 

Molly bit her lip. Mycroft was right so far. 

“Hmm. In the way that I want......” Molly took one step closer to him. 

“I'd want you to love me as a friend”. 

Sherlock nodded. 

“I'd want you to feel happy to see me and enjoy spending time with me”. 

He nodded again. “You know I do. Why else are Bart's and this flat my bolt-holes, my homes from home? Because you're there. Who else talks about autopsies with me, or brings me body parts?”. 

Molly nodded, and went on, stepping one step closer again, looking up at him. 

“If I was in trouble, or danger, I'd want you to want to help me or protect me”. 

Sherlock looked down, took her hand in his. “I hope I've shown that tonight”. 

“Sounds like you do love me in the way I want to be loved, Sherlock. There's just one other element isn't there?” Sherlock stood, her hand still held in his, unconsciously caressing her wrist with his thumb, looking down at her, frowning intensely. 

Molly stood on tip toe, her cheek next to his, close enough to take in his scent. She closed her eyes, ignoring the hammering of her heart. “If I'm loved in the way I want to be loved, there would have to be an element of desire, wouldn't there”...As gently as a whisper, she kissed his cheek. For a second he stood stock still, then, Molly's lips still hovering, his face turned towards hers just slightly. Enough for her to place another, slightly firmer, but still gentle, kiss. Her heart began to race as she heard the hitch in his breathing, felt the slight movement toward her, not away. 

She kissed further down his cheek toward his chin, and excitement flooded her as she felt his body turn, press against hers, his breath coming fast now. “I'm only loved in the way that I want to be loved if the person I'm kissing wants to kiss me too”... and she took every ounce of courage she had, as his face turned further to hers - she kissed him on the lips. He responded instantly, his arms snaking and tightening around her waist as his lips moved with hers. She let her tongue lick along his lips and he opened for her. The kiss deepened for a long moment, until he broke away, breathing as though he'd run from Baker Street to see her, and he croaked “Christ, Molly”...

Molly stood, smiling just a little, her hands on his chest, feeling the crazy beating of his heart. “No, if there's no desire, then I'm not loved in that way that I want to be, I suppose”. 

She'd barely finished speaking when his lips descended on hers again, hungrily, passionately. When burning lungs demanded breath, they broke away and Molly bit her lip to see the intense desire in Sherlock's expression, along with his reddened lips and cheeks. It was intoxicating. 

God bless you, Mycroft Holmes, she thought. 

Molly moved away slightly, smiling again. “No, I can see that ours is a platonic love, one that will always remain friendship, nothing more...”

Sherlock inclined his head, his expression trying to be stern, but failing.

“Sherlock, you're beyond exhausted, and John must be getting impatient. Go and rest. You've been through a lot. We'll see each other soon. You've done your duty after all. I know now that you love me, but not in the way that -” 

Sherlock growled, and pulled her towards him, kissing her again. After a moment, she pushed his chest to separate them. “Go! Poor John!” Sherlock looked down at her from his full height, straight backed. “Molly Hooper, you have ambushed me. I can see you are a complete minx. I shall need to – take you in hand”. 

Molly laughed, and Sherlock followed suit, a genuine laugh, crinkling his eyes as he regarded her. 

She accompanied him to the door. He kissed her so tenderly as he went that her heart squeezed and she had to bite her lip against impending tears. 

“We'll see each other soon”. He said.

“We'll see each other soon”. She replied, smiling. 

Molly shut and locked the door. 

She cosied up on the sofa, and the last thing she did on that extraordinary day, before she fell into an exhausted sleep, was send a text to Mycroft Holmes. 

“Thank you, Mycroft. Sleep well”.


End file.
